


Slipping Through The Cracks

by PhantomEngineer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Guardian Angels, Guardian Severus Snape, Guardian-Ward Relationship, Mentor Severus Snape, Severus Snape Has a Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomEngineer/pseuds/PhantomEngineer
Summary: As the dust is settling on the aftermath of the final battle, Harry realises that either his death and return to life or Snape's more permanent death has resulted in memories that had been obliviated returning to him. Memories of when he had been a child with a mysterious guardian to watch over him who he now recognised.





	Slipping Through The Cracks

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by bayneko

It was after the final battle that the memories started to come back. Harry quickly realised that they weren’t brought back by the battle itself, but rather by death. Whether it had been his or Snape’s he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Maybe it was both. They had both died, though only Harry had survived the experience. It was then, as the dust was settling and they were counting the dead, that he found himself distracted by memories of his childhood that seemed to be unfurling within his brain as if released from bonds that had kept them wrapped away from his conscious mind. As if the effects of obliviate couldn’t withstand the power of death.

The kind of memories that filled in all the gaps and raised questions that Harry suspected he would never be able to answer, as the person that held all the answers was dead and unlike Harry would remain so.

They didn’t appear in a flood that overwhelmed him all of a sudden at the moment of either of their deaths. They didn’t appear to be triggered off by anything, a sudden cascade that drowned him in the past. They just were there, in his mind, when he came back from the dead. That was the only explanation that made sense. Restored to him just as he had been restored to life. But he hadn’t noticed them, as they fit in so perfectly. He might well not have noticed them so soon, perhaps forever perhaps simply at a different time later in his life, had he not gone to the Headmaster’s Office. The office that had been Dumbledore’s before it had been Snape’s, where the Pensieve still stood.

He had needed a break from the hectic grief of victory and all it entailed. He had an obligation to the men that had ruled the castle, each in such a completely different way and yet with such similar aims. A paragon of light who was far from perfect, a man wrapped in darkness who was far from evil. Men who had dominated his life. So it was only natural that he would end up there, in the office that had belonged to both of them, to Dumbledore for so long and to Snape so briefly. It seemed fitting, that it would be sunk low in one of those familiar chairs, letting his mind wander aimlessly as he tried to come to terms with everything he had experienced and learnt in such a short space of time, that he would encounter a memory drifting to the surface that didn’t fit with the memories that he thought he should have. A memory that he hadn’t known he had until it floated through his brain, a memory he almost didn’t notice he had no prior memory of, that might well have kept drifting by with all those other hidden memories with him never fully noticing the paradox.

But he did notice it. He started, catching hold of it, and remembered. He remembered how, when he had been a child, long before Hogwarts, he had had a kind of guardian angel. Not really an angel, as such, as angels didn’t have greasy black hair, wear long black robes or glare with black eyes. More like a guardian demon, but given that Harry had always been told he was an awful, freakish boy it made sense that he would have some kind of demonic guardian rather than a proper angel with fluffy wings and a halo.

Only, he had forgotten entirely about his guardian demon, and now he knew that he had never had a guardian demon but that it had always been Snape, just a human man. He wondered if Snape would have been offended to know that he had thought of him as such, and then he wondered if he would have been pleased, because maybe that would be the kind of thing to make him oddly happy.

It might have been easier to use the Pensieve that still lay on the desk, but it was still full of Snape’s memories and Harry still had to decide what to do with them, knowing that he would keep them in some manner but unwilling to remove them from where they were safely stored. A part of him felt too overwhelmed to attempt something like that, preferring to keep all of the new memories inside of him, where he realised they had always been. He wanted to feel the feelings that came with them, searching through his brain for memories of a young, miserable child and his dark, demonic guardian who would materialise out of nowhere to offer comfort and support in the shadows, where no one could see him.

Harry remembered how when he went to primary school his aunt would lovingly make a lunchbox for Dudley, stuffed with so much food that she had to use two boxes. He remembered, how he had had an almost empty box for himself, and how sometimes it was entirely empty. He remembered now how that hadn’t mattered, because every day at lunch time his demon guardian, Snape, would materialise in the shadows of the playground where he hid from Dudley and his gang of bullies and hand him a lunchbox, filled with tasty food. He had been too hungry to consider whether eating magic food that was presumably made in some dark, arcane fashion was dangerous. The food had been good. Sometimes it was sandwiches like the other children had, sometimes it was something different that the other children could never have like spaghetti or soup, still hot. Sometimes it was something entirely alien to Harry’s experiences. Now he wondered if that food had been taken by Snape from the Hogwarts kitchens, if he had had the house elves prepare a small meal for a small child every day of the school year, or if he had done it himself, cutting the sandwiches and cooking the hot meals. He had paid attention to what Harry liked and disliked, with foods that Harry enjoyed less never reappearing but the ones he did repeating regularly.

He remembered the way that his demon guardian, Snape, he still couldn’t quite believe it, would sit with him as he ate. The way that they seemed almost warded against being found or noticed by anyone else. He realised that Snape had likely cast a spell of some kind that would ensure as much. He couldn’t quite understand how the man who had been his nasty teacher, who had been the double agent that did so much to ensure they won the war, had also sat in a primary school playground in Little Winging every school day for years, talking in that deep voice that Harry had come to associate with cutting, sarcastic remarks. He hadn’t thought so then, though. The Snape who had visited him, never giving his name or explaining about magic though he used it freely enough, had been kind. Not in the way that other people were kind, but in a way that Harry appreciated nonetheless.

He’d told Harry to keep it a secret, which Harry had. Maybe another child would have told his parents that a strange, ominous, mysterious man was visiting him and giving him food, but Harry suspected that his new guardian cared more about his wellbeing than his aunt and uncle. Harry had kept it a secret, hidden away from everyone else. He hadn’t been sure if other people could see his demon guardian, he remembered that now. He realised that Snape had always been human and so it was likely that a lot of Harry’s childish assumptions had been incorrect. 

Snape had talked to Harry in a way that suggested he knew what lay in Harry’s future. As if there would be an end to Harry having to live with his aunt and uncle. Harry understood now as he hadn’t then that Snape simply knew that Harry would turn eleven and go to Hogwarts. At the time he had wondered if he would one day be spirited off to live in some dark underworld or Hell or something, wherever it was his demon guardian lived. He had never thought that it might be a castle, but he had also never thought that the demon was just a man. He had also wondered, in dark moments in his cupboard under the stairs, if something dark would befall the Dursleys. Maybe his demon guardian had seen something happening to them in the future by whatever mystical power it had been that meant he had known Harry was in need of protection. Maybe his demon guardian was going to do something dark to them, which should have horrified the little boy but it didn’t. He had looked forward to it happening, whatever it was. He just hadn’t realised he would lose his demon guardian when he left Privet Drive. Or at least, lose the memories. Snape had still been there, watching over him and protecting him from the shadows only he had been hidden from Harry as well as the rest of the world. 

He remembered how, in school holidays, it had been different. Then, he hadn’t gone to school, but his demon guardian had still come. No longer during the day but at night, which in many ways was more fitting. He had come, joining Harry in the cupboard under the stairs despite the fact that the two of them shouldn’t have been able to fit. But the normal laws of reality didn’t apply to demons, so Harry hadn’t really thought much of that. He had appreciated the company, the quiet conversation that he knew would not disturb the family sleeping above the stairs rather than under them. It seemed strange to consider Snape in that space now, but Harry had shared it with him for more nights than he could possibly count.

Harry had thought that the teddy bear he had had as a child had been one that Dudley hadn’t wanted that he had himself secreted away, as that was the only explanation that made sense when he looked back on his childhood without the memories that had disappeared. Now he remembered that the teddy bear had been given to him by his demon guardian. He had wondered, at the time, how on earth a demon could get something like that. Now he wondered about Snape. Had he walked into a normal, muggle shop for normal, muggle children, and bought that normal, muggle teddy bear just to give it to Harry one night, so he would have something to cuddle when Snape left? Or had it been enchanted in some way, to allow Snape to monitor him and always know how he was doing? Or maybe it had belonged to him as a baby and Snape had just acquired it in some manner. Harry had no way of knowing now, only questions that would forever go unanswered. All he knew was that he had held that teddy bear tight every night until he received his Hogwarts letter.

He remembered, how Snape had often sat in that cupboard that the two of them shouldn’t possibly have both been in, stroking his hair until Harry fell asleep. Listening to his complaints about the way the Dursleys treated him. He had often hoped that something dark and demonic might happen to them as a result of his complaints, but nothing ever did. Harry knew that if something had happened he would have received the blame, so it was probably just as well. He assumed that that was what had prevented Snape from acting.

He remembered how, whenever he was hurt, his demon guardian would magically heal his wounds. Pain faded, bruises healed and cuts sealed. Tears dried. Never affectionately in the way he had seen mothers comforting other children, and nothing like the way that Petunia would rush to appease Dudley when he cried. Just a gentle, practical care. Something that always made Harry feel more loved than any other child on the planet, because while they might have parents that loved them, he had a demon that came when no one was watching, who was always watching over him and who one day would take him away. Someone that he belonged with, because neither of them were normal, so together they fit. Not an adult that babied him, but one that listened to him, who fixed what could be fixed and gave him hope for what had to left as it was.

He felt a sense of grief, at the idea that the man he had encountered throughout his childhood had also been the man that had taught him for so many years and he had never known. He cast his mind back to his first year, to when he had no memory of Snape even though he had been caring for him for years, and felt a sense of guilt, a sense of shame. He had suspected him then as an agent of Voldemort, and no matter what reassurance Dumbledore had provided he had never really let go of that suspicion. He remembered the disastrous Occlumency lessons, the constant hatred that had seemed to exist between them, despite now knowing that Snape had always been protecting him, that Snape had been watching over him for far longer than anyone had known. He wondered if Dumbledore had know.

He wondered if the hatred he had thought Snape held for him had been faked in the same way that Snape had faked so many other things. He wondered if it had been real, if despite all the love he had shown Harry the child he had grown to truly dislike the person Harry grew into. That thought hurt, to reconcile all of his young hopes with the bitter reality that had occurred.

He remembered the way that the arduous chores he had to do around the house would sometimes be done for him, as if by magic, though only when he was away from any supervision that might notice something like that. He had often noticed a shadowy figure, which he knew better than to draw attention to. He had just felt gratitude for the fact that he had a demon guardian, that there was someone to guard him against the rest of the world. That no matter how he might sometimes feel, he was not alone. He had forgotten that feeling. He had forgotten it all.

He remembered clearly now, that night in the summer holiday, before any of the strange things that drove his aunt and uncle to distraction. Before the letters from Hogwarts started arriving. He remembered how his demon guardian had spoken quietly and affectionately to him, telling him that everything was going to be OK. Telling him that he didn’t have much longer to wait and he would be far away from Privet Drive. Telling Harry that even then he would always be there, always watching over and protecting him. Telling Harry that he loved him, something that he had never said before. Something that no one had ever said to Harry, because he was not the kind of child who people loved. Harry remembered that there was something heavy and sad to his voice, that he spoke more than he usually did, hugged Harry more, stroked his fingers through Harry’s hair as if he never have another chance to do so. 

Harry remembered clearly that, before leaving, he had drawn his wand and touched it to Harry’s forehead with a sad smile. Harry remembered nothing else after that, but he knew now that it must have been an obliviate, cast to remove all his memories of his childhood guardian. He had felt no hint of recognition when he saw Snape at Hogwarts, the spell had been firm and fast in his mind. But now, with Snape dead and Harry having died and returned to life, the memories too had been resurrected. They were there, countless little moments spread throughout his childhood, easing the misery of it. 

He felt the grief of Snape’s death more, a bitter anger at the world. He had lost someone he didn’t even know he had ever had, he had lost someone that knew his mother, that had given everything to prot him and ensure Voldemort’s ultimate defeat. He had lost the person who had guarded him as a child when everyone else had left him to the tender mercies of the Dursleys. A part of him wanted to cry, but his eyes were dry. It hurt too much to cry, a deep ache of loss settling in. He had no idea when it would fade, if it ever would. He knew that he had a lifetime ahead of him to search through his memories more, to remember what Snape had wanted him to forget. To treasure those precious moments that he should never have remembered. He also knew that he would have a life of regretting every moment when he had been rude or disrespectful to Snape, even more so than he might have been with just the realisation that Snape really had always been trying to look after him. Now he knew that those moments had also been a betrayal of sorts, a cruel response to the way Snape had looked after him, even if it had been unintentional.

He knew that he would have to leave the Headmaster’s Office and face the world. He knew that at some point he would tell his friends what he had remembered, just as he had told the world that Snape had been working against Voldemort rather than for him. He knew that his life at least would go on. But he remained sitting there, memories and feelings washing over him, delaying all of that for a few more minutes. Appreciating the privacy of the moment, just as he had always appreciated the privacy of having his own personal demon guardian.


End file.
